Soliloquy
by Zeitlos
Summary: Tyrande Whisperwind gets visited by an old friend.


"SOLILOQUY"

The moon hung full and bright over Darnassus' temple complex as the high priestess laid restless in her soft bed.

The last few days had been strenuous. Leading the Kaldorei was draining enough without Staghelm's constant disapproval.

Behind her chamber's windows, the leaves of the trees rustled faintly. Darnassus lay calm and quiet, one reason why Tyrande preferred this city to the cramped capital cities of her allies. Only rarely did non-night elves find their way to Darnassus, with the exception of those who sought shelter from the crowds in Ironforge or Stormwind.

She expected a visit from Northrend's messenger within the next few days. Although her army lacked the numbers of Varian Wrynn and Magni Bronzebeard's legions, she worried a great deal about her warriors and the countless adventurers she knew who fought against the Lich King.

Tyrande's thoughts were not letting her rest. Even though the soothing noises of the elven city should have calmed her and the pale moonlight showed her Elune's closeness and love, she had a hard time falling asleep.

Occasionally she slipped into an uneasy slumber, dreaming about her beloved.

An unknown threat hung about him. She felt that he needed her, but she could not reach him.

She lay on her back sleeping, moonlight illuminating her outlines, when something moved through the darkness in her room.

Suddenly a blade flashed in the air. Just moments before the gleaming dagger cut through her heart the moonlight surrounding her became as hard as steel. With a grating noise the dagger fell from the attacker's hands, leaving not a single scratch on the woman.

The noise woke Tyrande. Her eyes flew open and her body moved out of reflex. In one fluid motion she was out of her bed.

The blinding light that now enclosed the high priestess flung the disfigured Shade into a dark corner of the chamber. The entire room was illuminated now, with the exception of the one corner that held the attacker, who seemed to ooze darkness.

She tried to gain a glimpse of who had tried to attack her, but all she could see was a dark silhouette missing an arm.

The high priestess assumed a defensive stance, ready for any surprise attack that would cut through the Blessing of Elune.

Although the shield of solid light had never let her down before, she had learned not to underestimate any opponent.

"Guardians!" thundered her strong and commanding voice.

Toward the intruder she asked, "Who are you? Reveal yourself!"

"You should have died." He didn't answer her question. His voice sounded ill and corroded as he elaborated. "For everything you have done to me, witch, you should have died. For everything!"

"Who are you, bringing forth such accusations against me?"

The fact that her guardians should have been standing by her side minutes ago kept nagging at the back of her mind, but somehow the presence of the other kept sapping her concentration.

"I have never harmed anything but demons and their minions."

"Lies!" shrieked the shadow and for an instant the priestess could make out a part of his face. Grey, scarred skin stretched over the skull and a marred maw could be found instead of a mouth. Tyrande could see remains of tattoos littering the skin, before darkness again claimed its figure.

"When you destroyed my destiny, I was still innocent."

The shadow had calmed down.

"And it's your fault my life was destroyed, again and again, when I tried to build it anew. The great darkness in me... Is your fault. The burning skull... Your fault... Brother of the Defiler… Also your fault!" Slowly the shade talked himself again into a rage.

"Soulless human, brother of the Defiler and of the Prophet... Always he!"Roaring, the shadow figure plunged forward, but Elune's Light deflected the attack.

Tyrande's thoughts had become more sluggish as time passed by, and this time the broken elf would have killed her, were it not for the protection of the moongoddess.

She didn't know what her _visitor_ talked about or what he alluded to.

The figure staggered back on his feet and began once again to talk calmly, as if the attack never occurred.

"You separated me from my kin through your existence alone, and this is why you have to die." Sadness lingered within its voice. "Heroes defiled my dead body and took everything – even the present you gave me. They took my eyes, the weapons I wielded for aeons... And it did not matter. I yearned death, but even the eternal void was withheld from me... The old saying is true: _The deepest pits in hell are reserved..._"

The shadows receded and empty eye sockets lay below broken stumps that were once mighty horns.

Pale and scanty hair, bound in a ponytail, lay on his bended, twisted back.

"... _for traitors._"

Tyrande couldn't believe her eyes. She was unable to utter a single word, although the strange lethargy of her thoughts had vanished as the shadows receded. Her blood run cold as she realized who had tried to kill her.

"Kil'jaeden's torture chamber is worse than the deepest pit of hell, and you are the reason that I came to experience them." Illidan Stormrage reached out to his former love and his dagger, the Shard of Azinoth, flew into his claws.

"Like he had done with Ner'Zhul, he wanted to mold me into the new Lich King."

He cradled the dagger at his chest. Tyrande noted that he was missing an arm.

"He took my soul from my dying body and brought me into his world. There he stretched time, just to torture me for long, endless years. He mocked me, tried to break me, told me lies."

His head spun towards Tyrande, his empty eye sockets staring at her.

"But he spewed not only lies. One truth he told, and with it he awakened the wrath of a Stormrage."

She felt his gaze looking through her.

"He told me that you were the reason Malfurion and I fought. Because of you I strove for power, resulting in my banishment. But I did what Ner'Zhul couldn't. I fled from Kil'jaeden's grasp, and even though I am sure he will find me soon, I know what I have to do to make up for everything I had to go through."

His posture straightened and suddenly the darkness engulfed him again, countering Tyrande's Light.

Shrouded in shadows, the only thing that could be seen were the green glowing remains of his tattoos. Green flames danced in his empty eye sockets that stared at Tyrande until his shadows devoured the last glimmer of the moongoddess' protection.

"You have to die because of the love I felt for you once, Tyrande." He calmly stepped closer.

Tyrande had lost any control over herself and stood unbelieving, staring full of doubt at the menacing figure that had been as close as no other to her once.

Illidan's lost arm formed itself out of the same flames that could be seen in his eyes. With his hand aflame he reached out and caressed her face, burning her skin and hair.

Despite the agony his touch caused her, Tyrande could not move. Neither could she scream. The Betrayer held the shard of Azinoth firmly in his hand and slowly, almost leisurely, the blade slid into the high priestess' chest.

Blood stained her nightgown as his dagger found her heart.


End file.
